


maybe this place is the same and we're just changing

by naveed



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: "that's deep", M/M, and a brief mention of previous events, sad reality at the start, sleepy, the sweet sound of things falling into place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:30:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naveed/pseuds/naveed
Summary: here alone, when i feel down tooover there, when i await true love for youyou can hide, oh now, the way i do[ sometimes - my bloody valentine ]





	maybe this place is the same and we're just changing

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little bare but i wrote it when i myself was sleepy and in love, and you know how much i love men having feelings (except, somehow, when the man is me)

“I worried about you every night. Every morning. I hardly slept to begin with. Every time I passed someone asleep in the streets, or we got a call about an OD… every time, my head just raced; is it you? I drove myself mad. I think I drove everyone mad. I just couldn’t forget about you.”

Iain looks at Base with sad, loving eyes. Base can’t hear him.

It’s only been four hours. And after the trying day Iain’s had, four hours feels like a tiny amount of time. Compared to the amount of time it’s been without Base, it’s even smaller. He’s exhausted, but then he always is. What’s so exhausting? What can’t he handle? Why can’t he handle it?

“I wish I didn’t care about you. In the nicest way possible.”

It’s everything. Every little thing about his life exhausts him. He’s worn to the bone, but he keeps going. He keeps going, so clearly he’s not that exhausted, right? Is it his job? Well, he’s got plenty of annual leave he can use up if he wants. So it can’t be that bad. He’s got a nice house. He’s got money. He’s not really got it worse than any other paramedic.

“I love you,” Iain sighs. “I’m sorry.”

When everything seems fine on the outside, sometimes you forget to check the inside. And Iain, inside, is not fine. All the shit going on in his head (for lack of better words) manifests itself in this chronic exhaustion. Anger, shame, and guilt. He lashes out when he doesn’t mean to. He regrets it every time. He goes home, lies in his bed, and he doesn’t sleep.

“Sorry for what?”

Iain’s heart jumps out of his chest. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” Base mumbles, eyes closed. “Were you talking to me?”

Iain turns an embarrassing shade of pink. Base turns over and looks up at him. “Why were you talking to me while I was asleep?” he chuckles, clocking Iain’s flushed face. Iain looks away.

“Cause you can’t hear.”

“What were you saying that’s so bad?” Base prods. “What are you sorry for?”

Iain knows what he meant, but actually, he’s sorry for a lot. He’s sorry for Mia. He’s sorry for Sam. He’s sorry for the way he’s treated Jan and Ruby. He’s even sorry for punching Dylan – although that one comes and goes. He’s sorry for being angry. He’s sorry for being a mess. And he’s sorry for dragging Base into it with him.

But Base is quite an angry person, too. He’s angry at the world. People have walked over him for so long that he’s used to doubting himself. Hanging over him every day is this sense of hopelessness. Trust isn’t as easy as it once was. Sometimes he feels like he can’t even trust himself. The drugs bag? Well, it’s just a bag now. But Iain understands. And that’s not hopelessness – that’s love.

No point beating around the bush now. “I love you,” Iain says again, “and I’m sorry for that.”

Base’s mind goes quiet. He can’t tell if it’s sleep-deprived emptiness, or lovelorn clarity. Iain’s words float around in his head and hit the insides of his skull. It gives him a headache.

“Why are you sorry?” Base asks, with the intonation of a psychiatrist.

Iain gazes at the ceiling and shrugs into the mattress. “Be easier if I didn’t.”

Base hears; you’re hard to love, but he shakes that thought away.

“I haven’t loved anyone for a while,” Iain continues. “Like, a long while. Or at least, not like this. I’d sort of forgotten what it’s like. But… what I was talking about, before I woke you up – I think I was trying to say that while you were gone, I remembered. Maybe I only realised what it was I felt for you when you weren’t there.

Base feels every word. He feels it in his chest, his stomach. He can feel how Iain feels. When Iain looks back at him, he’s grinning. “You love me,” he teases. He wants to make fun of him. Oh, defence mechanisms, you strange things.

“Shut up!” Iain hisses in semi-feigned offence. “Do you have any idea how weird this is for me?”

“And it’s not for me?” Base almost chokes. “This is so fucking weird, Iain! Every – every aspect of this,” he cuts himself off, laughing, “every aspect of this is weird. We are not two people who should love each other. We should hardly be friends.”

Iain softens, and then it sinks in. “Yet here we are,” he chuckles. Here they are. Together. In bed together, no less – but that’s practicality. Base was gone for weeks. Iain wasn’t just going to shunt him to the couch. In fact, Iain has been doing the most he can in the last four hours to make sure he’s as close to Base as possible.

“I love you too.”

“Really?”

Base reaches up to hold Iain’s cheek, and pulls his head back down so they’re face to face. “That’s a stupid reply.”

Iain knows. He just didn’t expect it. “You don’t have to say it back just because I did.”

Base rolls his eyes. “Just take it, Iain. You know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay,” Iain nods, feeling like a bit of an idiot. “Sorry again. For waking you up.” Base shakes his head with an amused sigh. He doesn’t mind. He’s glad he woke up. God only knows how long it would have taken Iain to knowingly say all this to his face. They both shuffle to get comfortable at the same time, on their sides, facing each other in Iain’s bed. Maybe it’s their bed now. 

A few things will change now. They’ve been changing this whole time. But everything has fallen into place so far – why would it stop now?


End file.
